Tag: Gratitude

What
if we noticed the small things in our lives that lift our spirits and make us
smile? What if we didn’t allow those moments to slip us by, but instead took
time to pause, appreciate, and give thanks. I wonder if we would become more
aware of the blessings in our lives.

Here
are some small things that brighten my days:

Our local creamery. Not only can I get fresh milk
(and chocolate milk!), yogurt, and meat, but it tickles me that there is a
drive-through. I haven’t used it personally, but I have vivid memories of being
a young mother with three little ones. The thought of having to unbuckle car
seats, search for kicked-off shoes, and zipping up coats even one more time was
enough to make me skip an errand or two. I love that tired parents, busy
teenagers, and any weary traveler can just pull up to the window and fill their
order. Every time I see the sign, it makes me smile. So I pause. Appreciate. And give thanks.

A warm pool on a
cold day. There
is something a bit decadent about enjoying the warm air and refreshing water
inside while gazing at the wintery scene outside. I love to swim and am grateful
for the beautiful pool that is close enough for me to enjoy several times each
week. I try not to take it for granted, so I pause. Appreciate. And give
thanks.

Fruit-flavored water. This little treat is available whenever I go swimming. Yes, it’s a small pleasure, but how lovely to have fresh-tasting, cool water prepared for my refreshment. Before I drink, I pause. Appreciate. And give thanks.

Pretty candles. Short winter days call for additional light. And how much better it is when those lights sparkle and cast a beautiful glow. This candle is from the very special wedding I attended, so they offer an additional meaning. When I light a candle, it causes me to slow down and gives me the chance to pause so I can appreciate its uplifting light. And I give thanks.

Warm boots. “Walking in a winter wonderland” only sounds like fun in a song. The reality is usually cold legs and icy toes. When my thoughtful husband gave me these boots for Christmas, I knew that cold mornings would be transformed for me. When I I slip them on, I pause and appreciate their warmth and comfort. And I give thanks.

Cup of tea. Just the process of preparing
tea can calm me down. Heat the water, choose the flavor, pour the water, wait
as it steeps, and then pour and enjoy.
Ahhh… it is an invitation to pause and appreciate. And then to give
thanks.

Each day provides opportunities to bask,
even briefly, in appreciation and to offer thanks. It’s easy to overlook simple
pleasures as we rush from one moment to the next. Instead, let’s pause long
enough to notice. Let’s take a moment to appreciate. And then let us give
thanks.

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Not many people can say that their Thanksgiving table actually resembled Norman Rockwell’s iconic depiction of the all-American holiday, but I have to admit, the Thanksgiving table from my childhood was pretty similar to the one in his painting. The people who gathered around the table were all white, heterosexual (as far as we knew), and part of families formed with a mom and a dad, with mother cooking and father presiding over the carving of the bird. Gender roles were clearly defined and not (openly) questioned.

Just one generation later and our family has evolved. We look a bit different now. As we anticipate gathering with our children, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, we can look forward to racial diversity, hair dyed in startling hues, tattoos galore, and conversations that touch on topics like gender identity, sexual expression and fluidity, and the roles of men and women.

It is not Rockwell’s America any more and perhaps it never was. Many folks reminisce wistfully about “days gone by” while conveniently forgetting that many people in Rockwell’s era were not welcome at the table. Or at many schools, clubs, or businesses. That festive depiction of Thanksgiving only looks “ideal” if you happen to fit into the narrow roles of acceptance.

These updated versions of Rockwell’s painting, featuring a gay couple and a multi-ethnic gathering, makes me wonder – who is at our tables? Who is in our churches, our organizations, and our schools? Do we only gather with people who look like us and think like us? And if we do, what are we missing? Can we accept the joy and challenge of widening our welcome?

This year, whether your table is filled with relatives or whether you create a family of your own choosing and design, or whether you celebrate a “Friendsgiving,” I hope you pause to give thanks for the blessings those special people offer to you. Let us also remember those who are not with us this year and give thanks for them, as well.

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I saw God today. It was not a dramatic, come-to-Jesus moment. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough to warm my heart and give me hope.

I looked out my window and noticed the sunlight filtering through the trees. As the autumn days get shorter, I am increasingly aware of the beauty of sunshine. So I dropped what I was doing and took these pictures to capture the moment.

These are not stunning vistas. They don’t really highlight spectacular fall colors. But this view spoke to me this morning.

As I took the time to really notice the sunshine hitting the branches and illuminating the few remaining leaves, I could feel my spirit lifting. That simple moment reminded me, oddly enough, that despite everything, the world is still spinning, the sun is still rising, the seasons are still changing. That constancy and dependability comforts me. There is an allure in knowing that God and God’s creation remain unchanging. It reminded me of the psalmist’s assurance, “God’s steadfast love endures forever.”

Although I would never turn down a dramatic landscape or a trip to a spectacular overlook, what I need is God breaking through in the everyday. I need to be reminded of God in the ordinary. I need to realize that I don’t have to travel someplace different or wait for a picture-perfect moment to find God. God is right here, in the messiness of my life.

It does not remove me from our violent and despairing world. But it reminds me I am not alone.

When I catch glimpses of beauty – in sunlight, twinkling stars, a child’s smile, a friendly greeting – it is an invitation to pause and give thanks. I believe God wants to offer encouragement every day. The only question is whether we notice.

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In November 1987 I arrived at the East Woodstock Congregational Church, young and inexperienced, to begin my ministry. The congregation welcomed me with gracious patience as I made (many) mistakes. They offered encouragement as I grew into my role and discovered what it means to be a pastor.

They taught me about thoughtfulness and caring:

Debbie Sherman filled the parsonage refrigerator with milk, butter and eggs. There was bread and cereal on the counter, along with directions to the (distant) grocery store. I knew I had landed among considerate, caring people.

A “Pastor’s welcome basket” was set up during my first month. Every Sunday I discovered practical gifts like a flashlight, light bulbs, dish towels, cookies, and homemade muffins.

Larry Grennan realized my 2-room seminary apartment wouldn’t provide enough furnishings for the rambling parsonage. He scouted furniture that helped turn that big old house into a home.

George Brown fulfilled his promise to paint my office (upstairs in the brick schoolhouse, at the time) any color I chose – a cheerful yellow. George would swing by the church every afternoon “just to check” if anything needed to be adjusted, fixed, or tidied.

John Davis looked at the spindly wooden chair behind my desk and invited me on an office-decorating expedition to Worcester that included reminisces about his family, work and school.

Barbara Brown spent hours teaching me about relations and family connections in our village. Her gentle suggestions (“Susan, you might want to call this person”) as she reminded me about birthdays and anniversaries of happy and sad occasions helped me establish personal connections with my congregation.

Kenny Marvin walked through the church every morning on the way to work to check on fickle furnaces and quirky water pumps. David Cain did endless chores – emptying trash cans, folding bulletins, raking leaves – to serve the church he loved.

Evelyn Eddy dedicated her life to the missions committee, always finding new ways to help others. Barbara Klare held up autumn leaves each fall as a reminder of God’s creative presence in our lives.

Barbara Barrett taught me about organization and attention to detail with her yellow legal pads and endless energy.

Glen Lessig suggested the revolutionary idea of a computer to replace my typewriter and had the foresight to exchange our ancient mimeograph machine with a speedy Risograph.

When I step into our sanctuary, I know I am on holy ground. This is a place where births and baptism are celebrated, couples unite, teenagers are confirmed, and memories are shared to mark a life completed and a soul gone home. There is a cloud of witnesses offering strength and love to the vibrant, active congregation that gathers to worship and serve.

These are not-perfect people led by a not-perfect pastor, but somehow through the grace of God, together we are the church. And I am so grateful.

Thanks be to God.

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Halloween was about quality, not quantity where I grew up. Houses were spread far apart in our rural area, necessitating car-driven trick or treating. Since that was all I ever experienced, it didn’t seem strange to me. My best friend and I would spend weeks preparing and trying out various costumes until we cobbled together (never bought) some dress-up creation. A hobo, a flapper, a mummy come to mind. One year it was a huge box with head and arm holes that fit over my body; it was spray-painted silver and plastered with dials, a compass, and a thermometer. Suddenly, I was a robot. Climbing in and out of the car was a challenge, but I felt very futuristic and modern.

Our Halloween visits were eagerly anticipated by our few neighbors. When we arrived, anxious to knock on the door or ring the doorbell, the door would swing open with a hearty, “Come in!” Waiting for us was a bowl filled with Halloween napkins tied with yarn that were stuffed with (full-size) candy bars and candy corn. Often a short visit for the adults would be required, despite our squirmy insistence that we move on to the next stop. We still had a lot of ground to cover that night. Thirteen or fourteen stops later, Halloween was over for another year, but we could go home to count, sort, and treasure our sweet treasures.

There were of course a few “ringers” in the neighborhood. The over-sticky candied apple at the orchard home or the collection of lemon drops and “suckers” from an elderly widow. That’s when the lesson of smiling and saying “Thank you” kicked in. But mostly our reward was a bounty of goodies, generously and gladly given.

What I realize now as an adult is how fortunate I am to have so many happy childhood memories. Much of my listening time as a minister is filled with stories of abuse or drama, angry or hurtful words in turbulent, unhappy homes. The lack of stability in childhood makes it challenging (not impossible, but more difficult) to create a stable adulthood. Many struggle for decades to overcome damage that was done.

I had the privilege of receiving what every child deserves, but does not get. I had parents who were dependable and loving and who created a safe place to grow up.

If you are someone who had a stable (not necessarily rich or luxurious, but safe) upbringing, take a moment to give thanks for those who loved and protected you.

If your memories of growing up are more troubled, know that God’s desire for you is that you know your true identity – you are a beloved child of God, who is loved and lovable. That unshakeable love is the gift, the treat, that each one of us is offered – on Halloween and every day.

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This reflection was published in the devotional magazine These Days. I wanted to share it with you as we prepare for Thanksgiving.

“So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.” Deuteronomy 26:10

The ancient Israelites brought their offerings to God, collecting the “first fruits,” the very best of their crops to present to the Creator. They expressed their thanks for the harvest, whether it was bountiful or slim, knowing that all they received came from God.

How do we express our thanks? The Bible repeatedly invites us – commands us – to praise the Lord, give thanks to God, and come into God’s presence with singing. Being grateful is not passive, it is active. First we need to notice our blessings. Then we respond by giving thanks.

How will we express our gratitude today? Who do you know who might need to be thanked today? Whose work is overlooked or undervalued? Who could benefit from receiving appreciation? Saying “thank you” could change their day – and yours.

Action Step: Consider creative, tangible ways you can express your gratitude to God. Who will you thank today?

Generous God, help us recognize the blessings you place in our lives. Amen.

Sue Foster

Rev. Dr. Susan J. Foster (Sue) is the pastor of the East Woodstock Congregational (UCC) Church in CT. She is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ and the author of "Retreats to Go: Twelve Creative Programs that Renew and Refresh."